


Liang Yi

by idyll



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Gen, Genderbending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-12
Updated: 2007-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-07 10:23:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idyll/pseuds/idyll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard, Bob and make up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Liang Yi

**Author's Note:**

  * For [x__kes__x](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=x__kes__x).



Somewhere in Europe, Gerard whines at him for an hour, and finally Bob just gives in and says, "Jesus Christ, okay," because he knows it's the only way to get Gerard to fucking shut up, already.

Gerard's not sober, not even close, and it's probably a bad idea to let him near Bob's eyes with anything pointy at all, but Bob's not entirely sober himself.

"It'll be fucking great." Gerard's enthusiasm is a shaky glittering thing that Bob doesn't entirely trust. "You'll see."

Gerard comes at him with a lit cigarette in one hand and a fucking _multi-tiered_ case of make-up in the other, and Bob's starting to rethink this whole thing. Before he can say anything, Gerard plants himself in Bob's lap and opens the case on the bed beside them.

Bob makes a drunken promise to himself right then that he will never again room with Gerard, no matter what. Bad things always happen. Like that thing with the shower curtain and toilet, which _scarred Bob for life_. And now this, with the make-up.

While Gerard digs through the case, Bob pulls the cigarette out of his other hand when he almost singes Bob's beard. Bob inhales deeply on it, until he's about to hit filter, then leans to the side to drop it in the ashtray on the bedside table. He holds on to Gerard's waist to keep him from sliding off but Gerard doesn't even seem to notice the change in angle or the loss of the cigarette.

Gerard sets a bunch of shit on the top tier of the case, then squirms back a bit on Bob's lap. His eyes are too-bright and eerily focused for someone so drunk. "Okay, you've got to motherfuckin' stay still. Like, don't even blink unless I tell you."

It doesn't go nearly as badly as Bob feared; he only takes one pointy jab at his eyeball, which is a goddamn miracle given the state the both of them are in. Gerard apologizes in between telling Bob it's his own fucking fault for flinching. Bob curses at him between bitching at him for _lunging_ forward with the damn pencil when he's only six inches away.

The mascara is the hardest part. Gerard gives shitty instructions that consist of, "Droop your lids, like they're heavy and you're sad," and "Not that sad, asshole," and "Okay, like, think of that heroin junkie we saw last night? Do that with your eyes." Mostly Bob just stares at him blankly and Gerard grumbles but works around what he apparently sees as Bob's total and complete incompetence at following simple directions.

Eventually, after what feels like a damn eternity, Gerard leans back, squints and tilts his head, then nods. "Fuck. Yeah. I knew--yeah." He pushes off of Bob's lap and manages to stay on his feet when he stumbles. "Go look. Check it out. Fucking awesome."

The room wavers in Bob's peripheral vision when he makes his way to the bathroom. He turns on the lights, blinks against the sudden brightness, and his eyes feel odd, his lashes heavy. It takes him a moment to focus on his reflection in the mirror over the sink, and when he does he thinks that he needed to either be a) more drunk, or b) less drunk, to deal with what he sees.

Gerard didn't just line Bob's eyes, dab a little color and swipe a subtle bit of mascara on. Instead, he went all out. It's over the top, but not in the way that My Chem's stage make-up is. That's more like costuming of the face. This, what he did to Bob, is more...feminine.

Bob's eyelashes, which are usually fair enough to be invisible, are long, thick and black. They spider outwards, with a sharp upwards curl at the edges. Just above that is a dark swatch of color, some kind of darkly sparkled brown with hints of deep gold. The eyeliner is dark brown, not the shock of black that most of the scene uses, smudged artfully under Bob's lower lid and drawn thickly at the lashline on his upper lid.

Bob blinks, his gaze going to the lower half of his face, then back to his eyes. Bob's not sure if he has words for it, for the way it looks, the way it feels to see it, to _be_ it.

Gerard comes up behind him and props his chin on Bob's shoulder. He stares at Bob's reflection with narrowed eyes. "Liang yi," he says vaguely. He touches Bob's facial hair with the tips of his fingers. "Yang." His fingers slide upwards, soft and careful, to the corner of Bob's eye. "Yin."

Bob's own hands are shaking, something in him unsettled and disoriented. Gerard makes gentle shushing noises, turns his head and presses his lips to Bob's bearded cheek. In that same hushed tone he says, "You're still you. Still Bob. Always."

He pushes away from Bob then and slides out of the room with the slight brush of fabric-against-fabric. Bob grips the counter in front of him and takes a heaving breath.

.End


End file.
